


A Matter of Trust

by Sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr



Series: Wrapped Up In One Another [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Apologies, Bondage, Butt Plugs, Cane, Caning, Corporal Punishment, Dom!John, Dom!Sherlock, Dom/sub, Drugs - mentioned, Established Relationship, Incest-almost, M/M, Misunderstandings, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Prostate Milking, Punishment, Rope Bondage, Sub!John, Sub!Mycroft, Vibrators, dom!Greg, sub!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-07 05:40:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4251510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock have been in a Switch/Switch relationship for years, depending on the mood and Sherlock's attitude depends on who has the power, therefore it is usually John.<br/>Greg and Mycroft have been in a Dom/sub relationship for just as long, occasionally they join forces.<br/>Today Sherlock has been caught doing something A Bit Not Good, John recruits Mycroft to put him in his place, but was the Bit Not Good as bad as they believe?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Recriminations

 

Sherlock stood, his arms raised towards his head in front of 3 armed officers looking mightily confused.

“Lestrade! I’ve got it, I know who…” he begun the second he spotted the DI but he was cut off.

“Shut up Sherlock!”

“What-”

Greg glared at him and encouraged the terrified shop owner out. “There’s officers out there waiting for you,” he said softly.

When the jeweller had gone Greg had a look around. Broken glass littered the floor by the hollow window frame, one of the glass cabinets had been smashed also, the contents scattered all over the place. He sighed. “Sherlock, what have you done?” he stepped forward so only two of the officers had a clear aim on the detective but so the pair couldn’t be overheard.

“Nothing.”

“You broke in!”

“I didn’t.”

Sighing again Greg asked, “do you have a gun on you Sherlock?”

“For a theft case? As if…”

“Sherlock!” Greg all but shouted. “Tell me now or they will shoot you!”

“No! I do not have a gun on me.” It was Sherlock’s turn to sigh. “Lestrade you’ve got to believe me that man is the one-”

“No, Sherlock! No! You are in enough trouble.”

“Sir?” one of the armed men questioned. “What do you want us to do?”

“He’s unarmed. You can go. Thank you gentlemen. Tell Donovan to get off, I’ll deal with this,” he indicated Sherlock with a nod of his head.

The detective was sporting a relieved grin.

“Keep your hands up!” Greg barked.

“What? Lestrade you can’t be serious… I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I don’t care what you think. I’m taking you to Mycroft.”

“What? You can just drop me back at Baker Street, or leave me be and I’ll get a cab but I’m telling you that man is-”

“No chance! John’s away and someone clearly needs to keep an eye on you.”

“For the last time. I. Did. Not. Break. In!”

***

“Gregory?” Mycroft glanced to the back of the police car that the DI had just clambered out of.

Greg paced straight to Mycroft and crushed him in a hug.

“Sir?”

“Sorry pet,” Greg sighed. “Bad day.”

“I gathered and what is my baby brother guilty of today?”

“I’ve just had a call from a rather pissed off friend of mine.”

“Care to elaborate? Sir?” Greg’s attention had drifted to somewhere miles away.

“Oh… the jeweller’s in town. The owner’s an old friend. Apparently Sherlock broke in – armed no less, even though he didn’t have a weapon on him when I searched him. He had smashed into one of the glass cabinets, the boxes were everywhere. The shop was a right tip.”

“Has he said why?”

“Does it matter?” Greg snapped. “Sorry. Sorry, pet. No, he hasn’t said. He claims he didn’t break in in the first place.” Greg took a couple of calming breaths, not like they did much good.

“Why are you so angry?” Mycroft asked remarkably softly.

“Get him.” Greg ignored the question. “I’ll get some tea sorted. It’ll be alright.” Greg assured his sub seeing the defeated look on his lover’s face, “He’s out of trouble for the moment.”

“He won’t be when I get my hands on him.”

Laughing softly, Greg turned to open the door.

“Sir?” Mycroft called after him. “Can I have the key?”

“Key?”

“To the handcuffs,” Mycroft explained.

“How did you-”

“There is no way he would have stayed in there if he was physically able to get out, suggesting he can’t, suggesting handcuffs as that would be your only option.”

“Smart as ever.” Greg smiled and gave him his keys. “Just deal with him. Please.”

***

“What have you done with him?”

Mycroft sighed and collapsed to his knees beside Greg, his head going straight to his Dom’s knee.

“What you did to me that first time, sir, all those years ago.”

Greg laughed. “I said go easy on him, not let him off.”

“He won’t be let off, sir. Trust me, it’s about time my baby brother learned to grow up.”

“I’ve rang John, he’s on his way back from Brighton. Be here within the hour.”

“It seems a shame my little brother seems to ruin everything when John goes away.”

“Do you know why he did it yet?”

“Like you said earlier, it doesn’t matter, he did it. The evidence was all over the floor. From what you say I would argue it seems almost conclusive.”

“I just can’t help thinking something’s wrong. Like the gun…”

“Aren’t I meant to be the clever one?”

“You are the clever one, pet, it doesn’t mean I can’t be a little bit clever too sometimes, I’ve learned from the best after all.”

***

“Where is he Greg?” John was passed angry, he was livid.

“Who? Mine or yours?”

John very nearly smiled.

“It doesn’t matter anyway, they’re together. They’re in the playroom.”

The doctor cocked his head on one side looking thoughtful.

“Can Mycroft assist you? I think it will help him and Sherlock. You can stay here tonight.”

John was more than slightly surprised. “I – yes of course. But won’t that be a bit difficult for him?”

“Why?”

“Well, being submissive. He only ever plays with us if you are there.”

“I think if Mycroft participates, whatever you do is likely to have a larger impact. It will be easier for you too as you’ll have Mycroft to help you.”

“Alright.”

“Go on in, I’ll have one of the staff bring you a drink.”

“What about you?”

“I’m meeting Dimmock, he’s finishing off the case at the jewellers.”

“Okay. Thanks, Greg. For picking him up I mean.”

“I doubt he would thank me. I cuffed him to the seatbelt. He wasn’t impressed.”

John actually managed to smile at that. “I’m not going to walk into your playroom and find my sub in pieces am I?”

“Mycroft is under strict instructions to obey you to the letter and not to hurt Sherlock until you arrive.”

“Hurt? That will be the least of Sherlock’s problems, mate, by the time I’m finished with him.”

“Well, good luck. Look after my sub. And your own. I will see you tomorrow.”

At Johns raised eyebrow he added, “Likely to be an all-nighter.”

“Well, enjoy yourself,” with that John turned and strode down the hallway to where not only his own sub waited but Greg’s too.

***

As John entered the familiar playroom (Greg and Mycroft often shared it with himself and Sherlock) he spotted the detective knelt in the corner, his back ramrod straight. Although it looked through tension rather than his usual ‘perfect’ posture. Mycroft was pacing in the small area behind him and John caught the end of the most recent reprimand. “… Isn’t it about time you grew up little brother? You could afford everything in that shop twice over and yet you had to break in. What happened to the gun?”

There was no response and the government official clearly didn’t expect one, which was when the doctor noticed the straps around the back of the detectives head. What colour the ball gag was, John didn’t know, there were so many in the collection but he assumed it was the orange one as that was the biggest and by far the most uncomfortable.

“What’s going on here then?” John asked of the older Holmes brother.

When Sherlock heard his Dom he flinched.

Mycroft spun, his brother forgotten, “I’m sorry John,” he said sincerely, clearly flustered.

Sherlock made a noise that sounded suspiciously like muffled laughter.

“I don’t know what you are laughing at!” John barked.

Sherlock immediately fell silent and straightened even more, now worried at his partner’s anger.

“I wasn’t having a go Mycroft, I apologise if it appeared that way.”

Mycroft seemed wrong footed once again, technically he should be kneeling too.

John, although not in possession of the intellect of either Holmes brother, was more attentive than anyone gave him credit for. He used it to his advantage. A lot. He rested his hand on Mycroft’s shoulder some tension already draining away. “It’s alright. Greg has explained everything and I think he is right. Your help is most welcome.”

Sherlock flinched again.

“Do you have a plan, sir?” Mycroft asked cautiously.

“John.”

“John,” Mycroft repeated.

“Don’t look so panicked,” John admonished. “You’re in this as much as I am. Could you set up the table?”

Mycroft nodded, “Of course.”

***

“Mycroft where’s the armchair that was in here last week?”

“In one of the bedrooms. Would you like me to fetch it?”

“Yes, I can’t wait to watch what I have in mind.”

Sherlock flinched again at that and John grinned evilly, winking at Mycroft as he left the room.

“You are going to regret breaking into that shop Sherlock gun or not.”

He paced towards him, his steps even, and each one causing more tension to rise in the detective. John used his knowledge of how Sherlock’s mind worked and grasped him by thick curls when he was two paces away rather than just the one.

Sherlock’s yelp was muted as he was caught completely by surprise.

John pulled his head back with a sharp tug, the angle of the sub’s neck on the edge of comfortable. John had been right, it was the orange gag, it clashed surprisingly well with the detective’s pale face.

He unclipped and pulled it rather aggressively from his mouth, he did it one handed as his other was still lost in Sherlock’s curls, he used his towering position to turn Sherlock around, just as Mycroft entered. He placed the armchair where it had been last week.

“Good boy, Mycroft,” the older Holmes smiled at the praise, he may have been in charge of Sherlock at the moment (Wasn’t he always?) but he was still very much submissive.

“You’ve set up the table?”

At Mycroft’s nod John took advantage of his grip in Sherlock’s curls once again and pulled him towards the bench. Not allowing him to use his feet, he made him knee walk which didn’t appear to be very comfortable.

“Pick a cane Mycroft,” John ordered. “And choose the number of strokes you believe your little brother deserves.”

Nodding again he went to the drawer where the selection was almost the entirety of London’s sex shops.

When he finished choosing he turned back around to find his brother face down on the table, the attachment at the front wedged in his mouth, stretching lips wide and John was finishing buckling his wrists into the straps that ran vertical to the floor. He tugged them tight.

“How many, pet?” he asked of Mycroft.

“Six sir… I mean John.”

“Good. Well carry on then.”

“Carry on?” Mycroft was clearly puzzled.

“Yes. You know, you pick your dominant hand, place the cane in it, raise it up high, and drop it. Hard. Preferably on your brother’s arse.”

***

It wasn’t long before Sherlock’s arse was a pretty shade of red lines running parallel to each other, Mycroft really was amazing with a cane. It was a shame he was submissive, his skills were never utilised enough, and Sherlock was the only person to ever be on the receiving end. After 3 hits John intervened.

“You not enjoying this Sherlock?”

He pulled the contraption away from Sherlock’s mouth, revealing the double-egged shaped object, Mycroft hadn’t realised the thing inside the younger man’s mouth had been so large.

“I asked you a question,” John reminded the detective with a fist in his dark curls.

“No, sir,” he managed, throat dry from its rough treatment.

“Why’s that then?”

“It’s a cane,” it would have been a usual Sherlock response if it wasn’t for how weak it sounded.

John growled and tugged his head back. “Try again.”

“You know I don’t get off on the cane. No doubt that is why you chose it for this ridiculous punishment. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Shaking his head, John pushed the pair of silicon balls back into Sherlock’s mouth, he spluttered but did nothing to put up a fight.

The doctor moved to the drawer and pulled out a large plug and threw it to the older Holmes brother who caught it in surprised hands.

“I’m sure you don’t need me to explain how that works.”

“No, sir… John.”

“Good, I’m assuming you know where it goes?”

“Well, as there is only one hole left unfilled…”

John chuckled. “Do you fancy a drink Mycroft?”

“There is port by the fridge.”

John smiled and took his time with the port, when he turned around Mycroft was already on to three fingers.

“You’re keen.”

“My brother always liked the delicate touch, as you know.”

“So you do the complete opposite.”

“Nice touch, don’t you think?”

John smiled again, Mycroft finally seemed to have relaxed around him.

A muffled grunt came from the detectives other end as Mycroft’s fingers circled around and found his brothers prostate. He rubbed softly with one finger and smiled at his brother’s Dom. More moans came from the prone sub as his cock hardened, wedged against the table.

As quick as the pleasure for Sherlock started, Mycroft stopped it, reminding the younger who was in control.

“Mmmcc…”

“Do you not like that Sherlock?” John asked from his chair. “Don’t bother replying, that’s staying in there.” He nodded in the general direction of the gag and Sherlock’s eyes dropped away.

“Put the plug in Mycroft and then come over here.”

Mycroft nodded and replaced his fingers briskly, subtly avoiding Sherlock’s prostate this time.

It was at this point Sherlock gave up, both Mycroft and John noticed it, his shoulders slouched in their bonds against the table.

John hadn’t realised how loose the cuffs were, it was an old trick, tense up whilst being tied and there was room to play with after relaxing, in fact it was Sherlock who had taught him that one.

His mouth went slack around the obtrusion also.

Mycroft glanced at the Dom and saw his hidden smile, it was usually a lot further into the punishment when Sherlock submitted, not after only three strikes with the cane, even if it was a heavier one than usual.

Sherlock tensed slightly when he felt a familiar rubber tip at his entrance. Slowly but surely Mycroft eased it in. In Sherlock’s opinion it wasn’t slow enough to get used to it as it filled him.

With one final push, the plug was seated in his hole bridging the gap perfectly.

“Come over here pet,” the doctor ordered.

Sherlock bristled at the name, that was what John used with him, not Mycroft. It wasn’t Mycroft’s. Sherlock hadn’t even done anything wrong!

***

“Looks like your toy is not happy,” Mycroft said surprisingly softly as he knelt beside John.

“Tough,” was the Dom’s response.

Sherlock knew the caning and the plug wasn’t even half of the punishment, the rest was seeing John soothe his brother; nothing sexually intimate, there were lines John didn’t cross, but the hand in the British Government’s hair was clearly not over that line.

“Reaching over to the unit he flicked the switch and Sherlock moaned as the plug within him shifted.

Of course Mycroft had been aware of which plug it was but the younger man had no way of knowing. Each plug had a twin vibrator, a little trick, curtesy of DI Greg Lestrade.

They left Sherlock to it, if he hadn’t submitted so early he would be rutting against the padding of the table already.

“How’s work been, pet?” John asked, one hand in Mycroft’s hair the other absently in his trousers stroking himself.

“Extraordinarily dull, for a change. Or as my brother would say, boring.”

John chuckled softly. “Yes, Brighton wasn’t overly interesting either.”

“What did you go for?”

“Medical conference, I rather wish I hadn’t.”

They both knew it was pointless idle chatter and served as further punishment for Sherlock rather than actual interesting conversation.

“Go and get me another drink,” John ordered.

“Of course,” Mycroft rose just as gracefully as his younger brother always did.

He fetched the decanter of poured an inch for the Dom and handed it to him, before he could kneel again however John shook his head. “I believe your baby brother had 6 strokes of the cane. I also believe you have only issued 3.”

Mycroft smirked and collected the cane from where he had placed it, resting across Sherlock’s back, leaving him no room to move. Ingenuity if ever John had seen it.

“Just the one, then come back over here.”

Mycroft’s head ducked in understanding and he raised the cane again, landing it as hard as he could across the seat of Sherlock’s arse. The movement caused Sherlock to whimper. It wasn’t just the pain of the wooden stick he had to contend with but the jostling of the vibrations against his prostate and the friction against his cock which was now weeping continuously.

“Oh baby brother, that’s not going to be rectified for a very long while.”

Sherlock managed to get a hold over his next whimper as Mycroft returned to the doctor’s feet.

After 25 minutes, in which time John had increased the tempo of the plug thrice more, Mycroft had struck his brother for a fifth time. This time, however, Sherlock struggled to be as self-contained as the plug wrested relentlessly within the sub’s hole.

He didn’t attempt to beg for release, which John found odd. The detective had been tied there nearly 2 hours and not once since his shoulders had slumped had he attempted to utter a word around the gag.

Surprised, John called Mycroft back over and repeated the pattern 20 minutes later.

***

As Mycroft hid the cane away back in its appropriate place John switched off the vibrations. Sherlock sagged; completely broken and exhausted.

John slowly removed it, however his touch wasn’t soothing, caressing as it would usually be after such an intense and long punishment. He was still angry.

Sherlock’s hole was gaping as he threw the plug into the sink. Mycroft made towards it.

“No. He’ll do it.”

The older man nodded.

“I still can’t believe you, Sherlock! Breaking and entering? I thought we were passed all that. Is it rehab again next? You know for when you return to the drugs. You have, after all been acting like a teenager.”

Tears had long since dried on Sherlock’s face and his sweat soaked hair clutched to his paler-than-usual face.

“Well after this little show of yours, you will not be coming tonight and when I finally get around to releasing you, the cage will make another appearance. You are not going to come for at least a week.”

Sherlock was sure he would have cried more if he had any tears left. It wasn’t the lack of release that upset him further or that he was tied there indefinitely, but the fact that John had made it abundantly clear he was still mad beyond belief.


	2. Reparations

The door to the playroom swung open, revealing a very out of breath DI.

“Greg?”

The other Dom took one look at the broken detective tied to the bench and sighed, ducking his head. “I really think you should untie him, John.” Greg sounded angry, but not at anyone else, least of all Sherlock, but at himself. He was the one who had gone to retrieve the younger sub after all.

“Why?” John asked.

“The cameras in the shop were conveniently out of action, however the camera directly across the street points straight into the jewellers. It showed this.”

He held up his phone which had a copy of the CCTV on it.

It showed the detective charge after another man – John guessed it was the owner. But the surprising thing was Sherlock stood, scarf on, collar up watching in utter confusion as the owner smashed the window and then continued to trash the interior of his shop.

John had never moved so fast as he moved to his lover and quickly untied him. He attempted to soothe the sharp red lines that the cuffs had left around his thin, pale wrists but Sherlock pulled away, trembling from over exhaustion.

“Pet…” John started. “I am so sorry.” He moved his hand down to cup the detective’s cheek where he had collapsed to his knees. He had one hand resting against the table to hold himself up. The other was clenched in a shaking fist.

“Lockie…” Mycroft tried when Sherlock turned his head away from John.

Sherlock didn’t have the energy to glare at the three people he supposedly trusted the most, he didn’t have any energy at all, thanks to his so called Dom. He groaned in pain as he pulled himself up, determination winning over exhaustion, just. John moved to help him and Sherlock flinched, stepping back and catching himself on the table he had been tied to for the last few hours. The doctor was taken aback by his sub’s flinch.

“Sherlock, please.”

“You never listened! You didn’t want to know! Well, neither do I.” he tried to yell but it came out more of a croak after so long with silicon wedged between his teeth. He turned, grabbed his clothes from the chair by the door and left, not looking back.

***

John started after Sherlock but Greg caught him by the arm. “Let him go. He’s going to need some space and time to calm down.”

Mycroft had already made the transformation that never failed to fascinate the doctor. John had marked Mycroft as a Dom when he had been kidnapped on his orders, oh so long ago. It amazed John that he wasn’t even a switch. Mycroft was wholly, completely a submissive and right now he was pulling the strings that turn the world.

“Anthea, put an active tail on my brother. Be certain that he is unaware he is being followed.” Mycroft paused to listen for a moment. “No, don’t intervene unless he is in clear danger. If he contemplates anything ill-advised, give him time to reconsider before taking him in hand.”

When the call ended, Mycroft’s hand began to shake, his brief rally as the British Government was over. His phone dropped from his hand.

Greg sat on the sofa and called him over. He knelt at his Dom’s feet and placed his head in Greg’s lap.

John felt completely despondent. “I really fucked up.” He threw himself down in a chair. “I’ll never get his trust back after this.”

“You can’t take all the blame. We’re in this together.” Greg felt like he was truly the one responsible. “You’re right, it’s going to take a lot to regain his trust. To do that, we’ll have to show Sherlock that we trust him.”

“Sir?” Mycroft sounded tentative.

Greg lifted his sub’s head so he could look him in the eyes. “Yes Pet?”

Mycroft bit his lip, what he was going to suggest was somewhat dubious.

The DI recognised his sub’s hesitance. “Go ahead, Pet. I won’t get angry.”

Taking a deep breath, he looked at John and revealed his plan. “I know that both you and my brother are switches, but Sherlock normally subs. Is that correct?” He waited for John’s nod. “Since you and I were both instrumental in his punishment, if we were to offer ourselves up to him as subs, it would demonstrate our trust in him.”

John was reeling that Mycroft would suggest subbing for his brother since that would stretch both couples’ relationships, but it made a kind of sense. John couldn’t see an alternative.

The DI nodded thoughtfully. “I can’t offer to do the same myself, but I could let him restrain me. Even Sherlock should be able to recognise the trust in that gesture.”

What Greg was suggesting was indeed an act of trust. If Sherlock broke that trust and forced the Dom to submit, it would cause severe psychological damage to the DI.

“Sir, no!” Mycroft was aghast that his Dom would suggest such a thing.

“Hush, Pet. We both know that your brother would never hurt me no matter how angry he might be.” Greg truly believed that. The DI had seen Sherlock through the worst of the younger man’s drug addiction fairly unscathed.

John spoke up. “Are we all agreed to this then?” The three men looked at one another and their plan was made. “Then let’s get ready for when he settles.”

Sometime later, they were dressed and sitting in the living room. Mycroft’s phone rang. It was Anthea. “Mr. Holmes, your brother is standing on the pathway across from a well-known drug den.”

The sub closed his eyes and suppressed a groan. “How long has he been there?”

“Approximately ten minutes, sir.” A pause. “He’s on the move. Away from the drug den.”

Mycroft breathed a sigh of relief. “Very good. Keep me posted.” Once he rang off, he went to Greg for a reassuring hug.

John wanted dearly to know what had happened, but held his tongue while the sub sought comfort.

“What is it? What happened Pet?” Greg’s voice was soft and he was carding his hand through Mycroft’s hair.

“We almost drove him back to drugs. He was close to entering his favourite den but he didn’t.” The sub sounded crushed that he had played a part in nearly driving his brother to use again, especially after the trouble they went to, to get him through rehab. At the same time, he sounded proud that Sherlock had resisted temptation.

Two long hours later, they received a call that Sherlock had returned to 221B.

The men stood on the landing outside the flat. John nervously unlocked the door and stepped inside, the other two men following. The detective was nowhere to be seen. The only evidence of his presence was his Belstaff, scarf, and the sound of Sherlock’s soft snoring.

***

John felt like an intruder as he stepped across the threshold of their shared room. Sherlock had collapsed on the bed in exhaustion. He was laying on his stomach, protecting his painfully striped arse. The trio were all surprised it had taken him that long to reach a bed.

John’s guilt rose anew. “Oh, Sherlock. I’m so sorry.” The doctor began removing his jumper. “Let’s not wake him until we’re ready.” The other two men agreed silently.

All of them, even Greg, silently removed and folded their clothing. John tucked their clothes away for later. Both Mycroft and the doctor knelt facing the bed. Greg stood between them. After the three men exchanged glances, the DI reached over and gently shook the sleeping man.

Sherlock rolled to face them with a glare, face pinched with exhaustion, which soon changed to a look of confusion. “What do you want?”

It was John that answered. “We broke your trust. This is the only way we could think of to earn it back. We want to show you that we do trust you.” John waited but didn’t get a response. “Mycroft and I are giving ourselves to you for the rest of the day.”

The detective looked at Greg. “And you Lestrade? What is your offering?” He spat.

The Dom didn’t hesitate at Sherlock’s anger, his course was set and he – they deserved it. “You can restrain me any way you like.”

“Tell me one thing,” Sherlock said tiredly. “When have I ever done something so petty as to stoop to common theft?” Sherlock’s voice now held an undercurrent of anger. “Your badge and handcuffs don’t count, Lestrade. That’s a game we’ve been playing for years. Anything I take during an investigation is turned over to New Scotland Yard as soon as practical.” His eyes roved over the three men. “For me to be truly guilty, I would have had to have lost my mind. If you believed the accusations, then you should have been seeking psychological help for me not punishing me.” His anger had quickly overcome his fatigue, and adrenaline had begun to pump in his veins.

John made a move towards Sherlock and the detective bolted from the room, from the flat.

Mycroft glanced at his Dom when Sherlock stormed out of the room. “Maybe we miscalculated,” Greg said.

“No,” John was adamant that Mycroft was right. “We didn’t, we just underestimated how let down he feels. Can we blame him? He’s always hated the cane, that’s why I chose it. Breaking and entering was way too far to let him push and the punishment fitted the crime,” John shook his head, “except there was no crime.”

“So what do we do?”

Mycroft was already getting dressed.

Greg and John glanced at him. “Wha-” Greg started.

“Anthea is off duty and I don’t want to lose him. We already know how close he was to a certain place 2 hours ago. We’ve fucked up, and letting him run off will not fix that.”

Both the other men were completely shocked at the outburst. Mycroft never swore. Never!

Realising that Mycroft was right they both scrambled into clothes, foregoing pants and undershirts despite the chilly November weather.

Mycroft was the first one dressed, looking nothing like the government official in a three piece suit that they were used to. He had his shirt buttoned half way up and his jacket thrown haphazardly around his shoulders. He slipped his feet into his shoes and was out the door in a flash.

“Pet, wait!” Greg shouted after him. When there was no acknowledgment that Mycroft had even heard him, he glanced worriedly at John who was still fighting his way into his trousers. “I don’t think the younger Holmes is the only one we’ve fucked up with.”

***

Greg and John ran from the flat, now in pursuit of both the Holmes brothers. Luckily, Mycroft’s height served them well. Both men put on an extra burst of speed when they caught sight of him darting down the pathway in the distance. A man with a desk job shouldn’t be able to move so fast. Still, they closed the gap between them rapidly.

Sherlock was far too savvy to be caught as easily. A quick side step down an alley followed by a shimmy up a fire escape, and he was able to slow his speed. His burst of adrenaline fuelled energy had been spent. Maybe he wasn’t dancing across London’s rooftops in pursuit of some criminal, but at least he was able to move, out of sight. It was a long while before the trio attempting to follow him realised that he had completely given them the slip.

Sherlock hadn’t been oblivious to the tail that Mycroft had put on him earlier. If his brother were to put one on him now, what he was about to do would send him, John, and Greg into a panic. The detective really didn’t care, or maybe that was entirely the point.

There weren’t very many CCTV cameras in this area of London, but Sherlock was able to find one reasonably close to his destination. He paused directly in its field of view, ensuring that his face was clearly seen. Without wave or gesture, the detective turned and walked a single block to where he hid in the shadows and waited.

***

When Sherlock saw the worried trio appear 500 yards up the street, he stepped out of the shadows and began pacing up and down the road in front of the path that ran into the all too familiar building. He made sure he was in plain view but kept his head down and his hands deep in his pockets.

***

“Sherlock!” John yelled, clearly panicked.

Pretending that he was surprised at their arrival he glanced up, put on his most shocked, innocent expression and fled into the building.

Sherlock did his best to ignore the stench of dirty flesh, bodily fluids, and other pervasive smells. He avoided all personal interactions by dent of his cold mien and determined walk. His route took him down a hallway, through a room, up one stairway, back down another and out the back into an alleyway. Sherlock took to the rooftops once more to resume his pacing, hands clasped behind his back.

It was a while before he heard the sound of the back door opening and two voices sniping at each other. He braced himself against the edge and peered over it, ensuring his face was masked by the shadows the dark night offered. It was his “Dom” and his brother. Greg must have been on guard at the front.

“It’s a dead end,” John growled looking around the dank and gloomy box courtyard.

“Well he has to be somewhere. Once you’ve eliminated the impossible whatever remains however improbable must be the truth-”

“That’s Sherlock’s line,” John interrupted.

“Who do you think taught him that? He’s around here somewhere John, he has to be. We followed him straight in and he didn’t go out the front. We’ve searched the entire building and this is the only way he could have come.”

“Well, where the bloody hell did he go then Mycroft?! He’s not Spiderman, he didn’t just…” John trailed off glancing up as both men realised the same thing at once.

“My brother is an excellent climber. That’s how he gave us the slip so easily.”

At first Sherlock thought he had been spotted, but knew his face was hidden. As long as he didn’t make a sound or move to cause a silhouette they wouldn’t know he was there.

“Greg!” John yelled.

The DI appeared, “Have you found him?”

“No, he’s gone. He could be anywhere in the city.”

“Why would he walk straight through a drug den and not stop for a quick high? It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Because I’ve grown up!” Sherlock spat from the roof.

The trio all looked up at the sound of the familiar drawling voice.

 

Sherlock noticed the ledge he’d used to reach his current location and jumped for it, swinging down and landing behind the others.

“You taught me that John, you taught me I could be better. I wouldn’t stoop so low as to use drugs again. I have no reason to. Like I had no reason to break into that shop and destroy it.”

The others had he decency to look ashamed.

“Not nice being told you’re wrong is it?”

“Sherlock, are you okay? Physically I mean, if you’ve been racing around the rooftops of London you haven’t done yourself any harm have you?” John knew he was in the doghouse but he couldn’t stand by and let him be hurting if he could avoid it.

“No more than Mycroft did with the cane.”

His older brother flinched at that but stepped forward. As he did, the detective took a pace back.

“No. No you don’t get to touch me to make yourself feel better.”

He nodded, “You’re right, I’m sorry brother-mine.”

Taking a deep breath Sherlock looked them all in the eye individually. “I believe you offered me something I walked away from. Offer again and I won’t. Offer again and we can fix this.”

John did.

It didn’t take them long to return to Greg and Mycroft’s flat.

***

Maybe it was petty, but the fright that Sherlock had given the three men earlier had gone a long way toward defusing the anger that he had been feeling. In its place was a firm determination to teach John and the others a lesson. Before punishing John, he wanted to take care of Lestrade and get Mycroft’s punishment out of the way. Then he would see to John. Sherlock already had a suitable punishment in mind for his sub. Making the other two men witness it would serve to drive the lesson home with them as well.

It was quick work for Sherlock to frogtie Greg with black rope. In addition, each of the DI’s wrists were tied where his corresponding ankle met thigh. Though it didn’t serve his current agenda, Sherlock had stared long and hard at the pretty picture the DI made – he would most likely never get to see it again.

Now, Sherlock turned to John and Mycroft who were knelt side by side on Sherlock’s bed. What he said didn’t match his intentions, but the two men didn’t need to know that. “Now, we are going to play a little game. John is going to choose Mycroft’s punishment. After I carry out that punishment. Mycroft will select John’s punishment. Simple? No. John won’t want to select anything too terrible because Mycroft will reciprocate accordingly. However, if John chooses something too lenient, then I may decide to choose the punishment for both of you myself. If that happens, I assure you, neither of you will be happy.” He gave them a calculatedly cold smile.

John closed his eyes and rapidly went through a mental list of punishments and the effects they had on Mycroft. Fuck. There was only safe choice to make and that meant that John would be paying the price later, but if he didn’t make this choice he knew that Sherlock would make one worse.

“T-the cane, sir. Six strokes.” John swallowed hard.

Though not surprised, Mycroft didn’t manage to supress a moan.

“Interesting choice.” Sherlock looked at the two men, not giving away how he felt. “Make your way to the foot of the bed, Mycroft lean over it and place your feet on the floor.”

It didn’t take long for his brother to be positioned just as he wanted him. Mycroft supported himself by leaning on his forearms.

Sherlock glanced quickly toward Greg, the Dom was doing fine.

“Now listen carefully, brother mine. You will keep both feet planted on the floor. If you lift one or both feet from the floor I will be forced to start over. Don’t speak, simply nod if you understand.” Sherlock waited for Mycroft to nod before stepping to the drawer where the canes were stored and making his selection. It was the same cane that had been used on him earlier, it was only fitting. He walked to the foot of the bed and placed it next to Mycroft so that he could see it and anticipate its use. “You have a lovely arse, Mycroft. It makes a wonderful target.” He reached out and began massaging each rounded lobe of his brother’s pert arse. Taking up the cane once again, Sherlock pulled back and struck hard across Mycroft’s arse. His brother let out a yell and jerked. Sherlock struck two times quickly in succession. His aim was perfect and there were now three parallel lines marking Mycroft’s arse. His brother was absolutely reeling.

The Dom paused and ran his fingers along the raised welts, he pinched one viciously. Mycroft gasped at the fiery feeling that his brother’s fingers caused. Without waiting for the pain to abate, Sherlock struck another blow across Mycroft’s arse. It was the harshest blow yet. His brother’s feet almost came off of the floor but he managed to keep them in place. Mycroft was breathing hard and sweating profusely. The Dom decided to have pity on him. This wasn’t really the main part of his punishment. That would come with what Sherlock had planned for John. The detective delivered the final two blows quickly. Sherlock watched as Mycroft positively wailed, his arms gave out, and he collapsed on the bed.

Sherlock leaned down to whisper in his brother’s ear, “You did so very well, brother mine.” He carded his hand through his brother’s ginger hair then trailed it down his brother’s spine to his arse. He massaged the battered flesh for several long minutes until Mycroft had quit trembling.

“It seems I’ve changed my mind about John’s punishment.” He had done no such thing, but the others didn’t need to know that. “See to Lestrade, Mycroft. You can release him now. But I want both of you to stay for this.”

***

Sherlock climbed onto the bed and settled himself with his back against the headboard. “John, come here.” He patted the bed between his spread legs indicating where he wanted John. When his sub moved into position, Sherlock manoeuvred him so that the doctor sat with his back against his Dom. The detective held him, placing one large hand on John’s chest and the other on his belly.

“I’ve always behaved badly. I’ve always treated others appallingly, and I’ve always put myself at risk in too many ways to count. I never saw a need to change and no one, no Dom, has ever been able to handle me, until you. When you came into my life, I finally had a reason to become a better man. You make me want to be a better man, and when I can’t do it by myself, you provide a guiding hand. Your punishments have always been just. Though sometimes harsh, they always fit the deed and helped me understand where I had gone wrong. I’ve always trusted you. Not like Victor.”

Sherlock shifted their positions slightly before continuing. “He punished me for the smallest things. He only needed the slightest excuse. Forgetting to turn the lights off when I left a room, leaving the bed unmade, small things like that. If someone said anything against me, he punished me. He never understood me at all.” His voice actually broke. “I should have left him, but I didn’t. I turned to drugs instead. Ironically, he was never bothered by that. I didn’t care what he did to me anymore so things were okay.”

John stiffened in Sherlock’s embrace. It almost sounded like he was being blackmailed.

The detective knew what his sub was thinking. “No. I would never go back to drugs. Greg saved me from that, if it wasn’t for him putting his foot down with Mycroft I don’t know what would have happened. And as for Mycroft, it wasn’t easy keeping me in rehab. I hated it and I’m now grateful, but at the time I wasn’t. It most have broken his heart to do that to me and I hated him for it and that didn’t necessarily mean when I came out I didn’t want to still do drugs. He put me in that place, knowing I would resent him, but it was what was best. You’ve shown me that I am better than that. Stronger. I don’t need the drugs anymore, that’s why I avoided temptation and walked right through.”

John tensed again, aware of what they had said in the courtyard about Sherlock’s ability to avoid drugs. “I’m glad you’ve been there to stop me doing incredibly stupid things, but I won’t be treated that way; not even given a chance to explain. I’m not leaving you, but I need to know that I can trust you before I let you Dom me again.”

It was hard for John to breathe, but he latched onto the one thing that his Dom had said to give him hope. Sherlock wasn’t going to leave him. As long as the detective stayed, he could make this better. “I understand. I’ll do whatever you need me to in order to make this right. I’ll wait as long as you need.”

Sherlock placed a kiss on the top of John’s head. “I know you will. I still love you.”

John’s voice cracked. “God. I love you so much. I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t.”

Greg and Mycroft were deeply affected by what had just transpired. Both of them silently resolved to be more respectful of Sherlock and to trust him more. They would also be there to support John until things got better. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take too long.

 


	3. Best Behaviour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So John got off... Or did he?

On the evening of the jewellery store incident, Sherlock hailed a cab and solicitously held the door for John. He actually made polite conversation for the entirety of the ride back to Baker Street. Furthermore, Sherlock paid the cab fare. That was most definitely a first.

When John proposed supper, Sherlock acquiesced graciously. The doctor called for Chinese takeaway from just down the street. When it arrived, the detective ate every bite of his portion. When it was time for John to go to bed for the night, Sherlock joined him without complaint and he even remained in bed all night. It was simply unnatural.

*** 

Four days later found them sipping tea over toast and, yes, Sherlock was eating again. It was disturbing enough that John refused to watch but glued his eyes to the news that was playing on the telly.

Sherlock’s phone pinged. He looked down and read the message quickly then announced “Lestrade. We have a case.”

“Good… sir.” John stumbled over the honorific. He was much more used to calling Sherlock ‘pet’. The doctor welcomed anything that would provide a distraction, not just for Sherlock’s sake but for his own. It would actually be a relief to witness Sherlock insulting Donovan or Anderson at this point. “Did he give you any details, sir?”

“It’s an apparent suicide, but Lestrade doesn’t think it _feels_ right.” The detective’s emphasis on the word ‘feels’ highlighted his disdain for such a nebulous concept. He much preferred the precision of facts.

“Well, you know Greg, sir. He’s good at his job and he’s probably right.”

Sherlock already had his coat and scarf on and was pulling on his gloves as he went down the stairs two at a time. John scrambled to keep up.

In the cab, the detective filled John in on the rest of the details of the case. “The victim is a female Dom, early thirties. She was found hanging in her play room. There was even a note.” He waved one hand in the air. “However, it is statistically unlikely that a Dom would choose this method to take her own life.”

That was true, John thought. Subs were apt to kill themselves in a manner that held sexual connotation. The opposite was true of Doms. Guns, drug overdoses, even jumping from buildings was much more the norm where Doms were concerned.

“Stop here,” Sherlock ordered. He thrust some notes at the cabbie then opened the door. Both he and John exited onto the pathway and walked the few feet to the police tape.

“Hiya, Freak.” It was Donovan and she was just as friendly as ever.

“Sergeant Donovan.” Sherlock shaped his mouth into something approximating a smile. “Your hair is lovely. New style?”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Freak?” She was squinting at him trying to understand what was happening.

The detective raised the tape so that John could passed under it. “Exactly what I said. The style is very becoming.

John managed not to let his mouth hang open as he looked between Donovan and Sherlock. Yes, Sally’s new cut was rather attractive, but still, this was Sally Bloody Donovan! The detective had left him behind so John jerked into motion to follow him.

Once inside, Sherlock walked unerringly to the playroom. The DI had kept the scene intact. Both Lestrade and Anderson were waiting just outside the door, Anderson with his arms crossed. “Lestrade. Anderson. Shall we, then?”

“What, no snide remarks?” It was Anderson.

“Tell me what you see,” Sherlock requested.

John started to respond automatically but the detective silenced him with a glance.

“If you would, Anderson?”

“Seriously? No, you’re just trying to wind me up.”

Lestrade traded looks with John. If this was Sherlock’s idea of having fun with Anderson, then he would seriously need to be taken down. John shrugged. The DI knew as well as he did that John was still forbidden to act as the detective’s Dom.

“Please. I would like your opinion.”

John almost gagged. This was really too much.

Anderson explained his theory regarding the apparent suicide and Sherlock didn’t immediately dismiss the man’s notions - not out loud anyway.

With exaggerated politeness and a small nod, the detective spoke. “Thank you, Anderson. I appreciate your insights.” With that, Sherlock stepped into the room. A quick examination of the hanging body and a single read-through of the ‘suicide note’ and he knew exactly what had happened.

“The victim’s partner was inaccurately identified as a sub when he first reached maturity. He has suffered from depression on and off since then. The strain of suppressing his true nature coupled with the inevitable trauma that results when a Dom subs was finally too much for him and he snapped. The suicide note is in actuality from him. Check with family and friends to find out his hideouts. You’ll likely find a second body.” Sherlock paused before continuing. “Would you like me to meet you at New Scotland Yard, Greg? I’ll be more than happy to complete the paperwork now if want.”

The DI’s head was swimming. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be great.”

Sherlock’s behaviour clearly had Lestrade off balance. John wasn’t far behind.

After the paperwork had been completed, the two switches made their way back to the flat. The evening passed in seemingly domestic bliss then it was time for bed.

John tossed and turned, unable to find sleep. There was still a bitter taste in his mouth that was left there by Sherlock’s more than polite treatment of Donovan and Anderson. He let out a long sigh.

Sherlock shifted next to him and a long arm and leg curled over the doctor. “Sleep, John.”

Somehow that simple order allowed John to slip off at last. Later, REM overtook him and things went straight to hell.

***

_Molly was working on a body in the morgue. John looked down at the body and Sherlock smiled back._

_“Hello, John.”_

_The doctor jerked back. “Christ! Molly stop, it’s Sherlock! He’s alive!”_

_Molly didn’t stop working. In fact she began making a Y- incision._

_Sherlock looked past John who turned to see what the other man was looking at._

_“Sergeant Donovan. Your hair is lovely. New style?”_

_Sally positively preened under Sherlock’s praise. “Thanks, I had it done just for you.”_

_John turned back around only to see Sherlock’s chest spread open, her hands buried to the wrists._

_“Molly, I said stop! I can still save him.”_

_Anderson stepped up next to Molly and looked blandly at the detective._

_Sherlock smiled up at Anderson. “Please. Would you give John your opinion?”_

_“Sherlock’s quite dead, Doctor Watson. He’s far beyond your help.”_

_John screamed._

***

He was sitting up in their bed at 221B, the morgue fading into the darkness around him.

“John, calm down.” It was Sherlock’s voice and Sherlock’s arms wrapped around him. “You were having a nightmare. Not your usual one, though.”

The doctor shook his head though the other man couldn’t see the motion in the darkness. “You’re right. It was horrible.” Already the details of the dream were receding, but he remembered one terrible thing. “You were dead and I couldn’t do anything. I failed you.” He let out a single sob.”

“You have never failed me, John Watson. Not a single time.”

John shook because he knew the truth. He had failed the other man. He had punished him when it wasn’t deserved. What if Sherlock hadn’t decided to stay? What if he failed him again and this time he left?

“Just hold me, please, sir?”

“Of course, John.” Sherlock wrapped himself around him once more and after several long minutes, they both fell asleep.

***

Something dire must have been happening at the home office because for nearly two days, Greg had had to put up with Mycroft behaving like The British Government rather than his beloved sub. It was okay. Well, no it wasn’t, but that was life with Mycroft Holmes. Every day was a challenge, a challenge he thrived on, he was pretty sure John felt that way too.

The problem was, his sub couldn’t continue like this indefinitely. Even Mycroft had his limits. If this current crisis wasn’t resolved soon, then there was every chance that he would drop.

Greg looked over to where his sub sat and considered. He decided that it was time to ask. “Pet.” His sub didn’t seem to hear him. The Dom bit his tongue to keep from snapping at the man, this was typical crisis mode behaviour. It didn’t happen a lot, but there was consistency in his actions. The way Greg needed to resolve the situation always varied. “Mycroft!”

Mycroft gave a small start and looked up from where he had been blindly staring at the wall. “Sorry, Gregory. I was lost in thought.”

That cinched it. If his sub was calling him ‘Gregory’ in the privacy of their own home, then an intercession was due. “It’s time to talk, pet.”

Greg had used their signal. One simple sentence. No matter how urgent the current crisis or how lost Mycroft was in his own mind, the sub always dropped everything for that. He stood and moved in front of his Dom and knelt on the cushion that Greg had already placed there. The gentle grasp of his neck in his Dom’s hand did a lot to soothe the unwelcome feelings that were bombarding him. Mycroft waited for Greg to talk. The sub never initiated these conversations.

“You’re far too wound up, pet. I need to know if it’s time for me to do something about it. How long is this crisis likely to last?” The Dom kept his hand against the back of Mycroft’s neck, seeking to be a calming presence for his sub.

It wasn’t often that Mycroft was caught wrong-footed, but this was one of them. “Sir?”

“Whatever this crisis is at work that’s making you irritable. Are we talking a matter of hours before it’s resolved or will it be more like days?”

“Everything’s calm at work right now, sir.” Mycroft’s brow was ridged with confusion. Being confused was an uncomfortable feeling for a Holmes and he shifted uneasily.

Greg’s fingers tightened on his sub’s neck and Mycroft let out a small huff at the sudden pain.

“Then, pet, you had better explain yourself because your behaviour has been appalling.”

Mycroft quickly replayed the last two days in his mind and gave an inward shudder. He hadn’t meant to behave badly. He was just so angry with his baby brother. “It’s Sherlock.”

“Go on.”

“He let John off and I got caned.”

Greg let out a long sigh. His sub was looking at him with a barely concealed snarl on his face.

“Are you serious? That is what all this is about?”

“Of course, what else would it be?”

“Enough of the cheek, Mycroft!”

Using his name in an already started conversation was rare for the Dom, and all he managed to do was receive a glare.

“I said enough! Head down!”

The government official tensed as Greg increased the pressure on his neck forcing him to look at his knees.

“I always thought Sherlock was the selfish one.”

Mycroft’s head began to resist the grip holding it down and he fought to regain control of his neck.

The DI had had more than enough.

“No! When you’ve had a bad day, I always condone a bit of attitude, if it’s work, more so, your job can be incredibly stressful, but this is out of order.”

“No, what is out of order is the fact that my baby brother hit me with a cane and just gave John a little talking to.”

“Mycroft, my gorgeous pet, you’re supposed to be intelligent, can’t you see what Sherlock’s done?”

He glanced up and Greg pushed his head back down again.

“No, pet, give me a verbal answer.”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Now who hit Sherlock with the cane?”

“Me.”

Greg’s squeezed his grip again.

“This attitude stops right now! Who hit Sherlock?”

“I did, sir.”

“And who did Sherlock hit?”

“Me, sir.”

“What were you expecting? It was your idea to sub for him.”

“I know that!” he spat.

Greg sat back in his chair, releasing his grip on his sub, lest he hurt him. “Go and kneel in the corner.”

Mycroft looked up at him.

“Now!” Greg barked.

Mycroft flinched and pushed himself to his feet.

“I don’t think so, crawl! You’re not coming out until you lose that attitude!”

Sighing, his sub dropped back to his knees and moved to the closest corner.

Greg shook his head at his retreating sub. A bit of corner time should calm him down; it was rare that it was needed but it usually worked.

When Greg re-entered the room after deciding he needed to calm down himself it was to be faced with an even angrier Mycroft than the one he had left. The sub now had his fists by his side, when they should have been behind his back, and they were clenched so tight his arms were trembling.

Greg couldn’t work out why he was so angry but the corner clearly hadn’t worked.

“Pet, come over here.”

“Why didn’t he cane John?” Mycroft demanded before the DI could say anything else. “Why pick on me?”

“You forget, pet, that John has to live with him. You know your brother better than anyone, whether he means to or not John will have a lot worse time of it feeling guilty and living with him and with them both being switches, well John’s going to struggle being the more dominant of the two.”

Mycroft didn’t say anything.

“Are you intent on making me mad, boy?”

Boy, whoops, being called boy was almost as bad as being called by his name mid-conversation and that had already happened so far tonight. Mycroft shrugged. “I’m not in the mood for this. Or you. I’m fine, work is fine.” He went to stand up Greg caught hold of his neck again.

“Right if you’re not going to give me the respect I usually get from you and your only reason for this attitude is that Sherlock didn’t cane his boyfriend, we have a problem. Go upstairs to the bedroom, strip and kneel beside the bed.”

***

Greg found Mycroft sat on the edge of the bed rather than kneeling as he had been instructed and he had only gotten as far as to take his tie and waistcoat off. His shirt was partially unbuttoned so that Greg could see the faint wisp of chest hair on the sitting man’s chest. Initially the DI was under the impression that Mycroft was going for seductive but his defiant glare said otherwise as his Dom fully entered the room.

“I thought I told you to kneel!”

“I thought I told you that I’m not in the mood.”

“Do I look like a care what you want right now?”

Mycroft’s glare was not-surprisingly similar to Sherlock’s at crime scenes when he believed he was stating the obvious and calling the Yard morons.

“Why aren’t you undressed?”

“Because I don’t want to be.”

“I’ve just told you that I don’t care what you want. Right now you are incredibly lucky not find yourself over my knee. Now strip, you will not like the consequences if I have to do it for you.”

Agonisingly slowly, the sub undressed like he should have minutes ago.

Greg stepped forward, into his subs personal space and grabbed his chin, squeezing so his jaw clamped open. “Hurry up,” he snarled.

Mycroft was glaring at him predominantly, he really wasn’t in the mood for subbing in a scene tonight. Well tough, he had it coming after his attitude and being a sub, or a Dom for that matter cannot just be turned on and off like a light switch. If Mycroft didn’t want to sub in a scene then all the more reason for that to happen; him not wanting it is when he needed it the most.

Finally, Mycroft had finished undressing.

Once Greg had let go he had moved over to the cabinet and set out a collection of red ropes on the bed in a pattern Mycroft was familiar with but that they hadn’t used in a while.

“Lay down, you know how this works.”

Once again as slowly as was humanly possible the sub clambered up onto the bed and laid as stiffly as he could where he knew he should be.

As his attitude wasn’t dispersing as quickly as the DI had hoped he had come to the conclusion that he needed to be rough; remind his sub who exactly was in charge. He wasn’t at work now and there had always been a clear divider between work and home, it was time Greg reinstated it.

He pulled his arms behind him and used his police issue handcuffs to keep his wrists there. Not wanting him to feel too comfortable Greg used a slightly smaller piece of rope, this one purple, to tie the chain between the cuffs to one of the D rings of the prone man’s collar. It pulled his arms up his back until Greg was happy, the British Government complained the whole time.

Once Mycroft was uncomfortable with a few more grumbled insults at his Dom, Greg moved his attention to the hook above their 4 poster. They hadn’t used it in a long time. Greg got to work on the ropes around his body that at the moment appeared to be at random intervals but wouldn’t be shortly, he tightened them so they be secure once he was in the air. Some went around his thighs to be tight and rub at his groin, others went across his stomach and chest to create a criss cross patter on his subs back. When the Dom was satisfied he threaded his hand into the older man’s hair and tugged back.

“Still complaining, boy?”

The glare Mycroft sent him once again would have been close competition with his younger brothers.

“Tut, tut.”

Mycroft soon found a spider gag wedged between his teeth spreading his jaw wide open,

It took longer than usual for the DI to set up the pulley system and have his sub suspended in the air as he refused to cooperate as he would usually. But eventually he was held by a total of 8 different ropes at equidistant intervals along his upper body, the red of the rope clashing with his pale skin. His feet however were still on the bed, of this Mycroft seemed quite proud.

“Oh I haven’t forgotten, pet, I just thought I’d leave them till last.” He ran his hand down his legs watching with fascination at the slight tremors that went through his subs body.

He used another length if purple rope to tie his feet together but didn’t want any friction that could assist an orgasm so he routed out the spreader bar, to which Mycroft groaned in discomfort before it was even locked between his knees.

“You don’t like this do you, boy? Have you guessed what’s coming yet?”

Mycroft actually responded with a weak nod.

“Ah, good.”

With one last rope the DI tied the British Governments feet to the pulley and then patted his arse. There were fading cane marks from a few days ago but nothing that had broken the skin or caused major welts because John had checked and made sure the same couldn’t be said for Sherlock. The guilt even now was extreme and it made him even angrier that his sub had reacted that way after what they had done to the youngest of the 4 of them. He landed his palm hard on the flesh beneath him and Mycroft yelped.

“So you got caned for caning your brother, big whoop.”

He landed another blow just above the last before lifting him a little bit higher, just enough that he could now comfortably fit between him and the bed. Then he striped a lot fast than Mycroft had half an hour before.

The headboard was hard to lean against so he rested a few pillows between it and himself before he lined his cock up with Mycroft’s dutifully wide open mouth and pushed in.

Mycroft spluttered and gagged before he gained control of his reflexes and then resolutely pulled his head away as far as he could.

“Not feeling very cooperative pet?” Greg asked. He was sure the corner of his subs mouth would have curled up into a snarl if he was given the choice.

Chuckling softly to himself he reached over to the bedside table, deliberately running his knee along the inside of Mycroft’s leg. He collect the red leash he always kept there and clipped it on to another of the D rings. He used it to tug him forward so his mouth was full around his cock.

“Come on, pet, you like this, get sucking.” Mycroft refused to move his mouth, his legs kicked at the rope causing the makeshift sling he was laying in to swing from side to side.

Growling Greg used one hand to tug at the leash and the other to reach up and grasp behind his head, forcing him down. “Now suck!”

Gagging once more Mycroft did the only thing he could and sucked, his cheeks hollowed slightly and he swirled his tongue around the head of the DI’s cock making him shiver in anticipation. Mycroft was quite the expert at this and had plenty of practice to which Greg was grateful but now he didn’t seem to have any interest in it; wasn’t properly trying.

Sighing, Greg reached for the buckle and unclasped it, he slid his cock out briefly in order to drop the gag and then pushed back in, sure it would be more comfortable for both of them now.

They both knew what this did for Mycroft’s hanging length and Greg made sure to connect his knee with it as much as he could. The humming it caused sent respected vibrations through his own cock. Especially now there was no ring preventing the swinging man from closing his mouth.

“You can do better than that, pet,” the Dom encouraged.

Mycroft bit down and Greg yelped. The gag had been out a matter of seconds. “What the fuck!” the DI scrambled up the bed. He tried to make eye contact with his sub but he was looking anywhere other than the place the Dom wanted.

“Do you want to safe word?” Greg managed to retain his temper longer enough to ask the only thing that would excuse that sort of behaviour.

The sub shook his head briefly. He questioned himself, he didn’t want to be up here why hadn’t he safe worded? Because Sherlock hadn’t, he told himself, he had already worked out why his baby brother had done so a few days ago. He wasn’t in any pain he just couldn’t be bothered, he started feeling a bit guilty, but only slightly.

“Then that means you are in serious trouble, boy!”

The hanging man mumbled something incoherent through the gag and Greg growled unbuckling it, he let his sub spit it out.

“Something to say?”

“Like I wasn’t already in trouble.”

The Dom sat on the edge of the bed. “What is the real problem here?”

“I don’t understand why Sherlock is-”

“Look, pet, he was a nightmare at work yesterday and when I say nightmare, he was in close competition with John politeness wise, he even came back to the office to help me out with the paper work, something he has never ever done, and he actually offered to do it.”

His sub looked away.

“If you apologise now we’ll forget that just happened.” Greg was sure he would obey but the only response he received was the grinding of molars as he clenched his teeth.

“Fine.”

Greg replaced the spider gag with the blue ball gag; it would keep him quitter and therefore his complaints to a minimum.

***

15 minutes later saw Mycroft writhing in the rope, mumbling profusely, it sounded like the word “please” was being said. A lot. But Greg ignored him in favour of his book, he was back to laying beneath his sub but was reading quietly whilst Mycroft had a mechanical dildo work its way in and out on its own and a leather cock ring preventing him from becoming fully erect. It did stop the constant leaking of his cock though as that would have been impossible, so Greg had made sure to lay with a towel over his legs so he wasn’t distracted.

After another 15 minutes, Greg decided that he had heard enough of his sub’s pleading and that Mycroft had had enough mechanical fucking. He rolled over and placed his book on the bedside table then scooted out from under the hanging man. Greg wanted answers from his sub, so he removed the ball gag, knelt on the bed, and leaned in close to the other man’s ear and spoke quietly. “Now then, pet. Tell me what you want.”

Mycroft was beyond any condition for showing obstinacy, instead he was trapped in an endless cycle of pleading. “Please, sir. I need to come.”

“You need to come? I don’t think so. You want to come and that’s an entirely different matter. Now, what if I keep you like this, begging, needing, for days? Would you like that, pet? Would you like to do without something that you want so badly, your goal just out of reach, for days on end?”

“Oh God, sir. Please no.”

“I imagine that’s just how John feels, not about something as simple as being denied an orgasm, but about the absence of the better part of his way of life. It must be hell for him, living with Sherlock day in and day out but not being able to Dom him. You know, your brother is still managing to be a brat. Do you know what he’s doing? He’s behaving. It has to be driving John mad. John probably feels useless right now, but I suppose that you won’t believe me until you see them together for yourself. I’ll take care of that, but not until after I finish with you.”

“Fuck. Please, sir.”

“Such language from you, pet. You must really be desperate.” Greg snatched the lube from the bedside table and slicked up his fingers. “Is this what you would like?” He used his index finger to swipe and tease around his sub’s hole.

Mycroft moaned at the touch and let out a hissing “Yesss.”

“That’s good, pet.” Greg abruptly allowed his finger to slide into his sub. He pumped back and forth in slow, gentle motions before pulling back out. The moan that came from his sub was delightfully needy. The Dom inserted a second finger and swiftly found his sub’s prostate and Mycroft bucked. “There, there, pet. Breathe easy and relax. You know what you’re in for.”

It was no good begging, Mycroft knew. His situation was hopeless. Greg’s fingers were tormenting his already over-sensitised prostate and it was maddening. If only he could come.

The DI showed no pity. His sub always took quite some time to milk and the Dom was all patience. He stroked and prodded - massaged and teased. Finally his ministrations were rewarded and Mycroft’s ejaculate poured from his neglected cock. Greg kept working, oblivious to his sub’s sobs and milked out every last drop.

“Now, pet, I know you’ll be frustrated for hours, if not days. I think I’ll keep you caged and milk you frequently, but only until John is allowed to Dom your brother again.”

“Sir, that’s cruel.”

“I think not. It only seems fair.”

It took several minutes, but Greg finally had his sub lowered to the bed and unbound.

“Go and get cleaned up and dressed, pet. We’re going to Baker Street.”


	4. Breaking Point

John awoke to the bed jerking beside him. He opened one eye to see Sherlock sat up.

“Sir?”

“We’ve slept in.” Sherlock was tapping away at his phone.

“How do you know?”

“Because my brother and his Dom are on their way.” The sound of footsteps on the stairs made the detective jump and grab both dressing gowns, he threw one to the doctor and opened the door in time for the knock.

“Greg? Mycroft?”

“Alright Sherlock?”

“Is it another case?”

“No, this lump needed to see what was happening with you guys.”

John appeared apprehensive at the door to their bedroom and with a silent nod of acknowledgment moved to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

“Happening? Nothing’s happening, we just slept in late.”

“You didn’t answer my text,” Mycroft grumbled when the door to the flat clicked shut. Greg smacked him on the back of the head. “Kneel.”

“Like I said, we slept late. Come take a seat Greg.”

The DI used the leash to tug Mycroft across the room and ordered him to kneel beside the chair.

John brought in 4 cups on a tray, perfectly capable of making each one’s drink perfect to their own tastes, he placed the tray on the table and went to kneel. A glare from Sherlock and the doctor sat instead.

“Greg,” Sherlock began.

Mycroft gaped at the use of his Dom’s given name.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on your latest case. Your team did quite well without my assistance.” Sherlock’s tone was friendly and without its usual sharp edge.

John looked down into his tea. His lover was doing it again. Next, Sherlock would probably be nice to Mycroft!

“Thanks, Sherlock,” Lestrade managed. Though he knew the praise was probably insincere, he wished he had a recording of it to hold over the detective’s head.

“How are you feeling, Mycroft? I was worried that I had hit you too hard with the cane. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, but I don’t see...”

Greg grasped Mycroft’s neck painfully. “Don’t, pet. Use that big brain of yours to observe.”

Sherlock sat up straighter. “It’s quite alright. I understand why you’re angry Mycroft and I don’t blame you for it, but I assure you that John didn’t get off so lightly as you think, did you John?”

The doctor shifted uncomfortably. He still couldn’t manage to look up from his tea. “That’s right, sir.”

Finally, Mycroft could see it – the pain in John’s eyes. His brother was being exceedingly cruel by being, well, nice. He bowed his head and felt very ashamed of himself for his behaviour.

Greg sensed the shift in his sub’s attitude and allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction.

They stayed at 221B just long enough to be polite. After all, it was just creepy being around this strange version of Sherlock.

Mycroft hoped that his brother would relent soon for John’s sake.

***

The next morning, John woke to the smell of breakfast. Its scent had permeated the air. Sherlock was being nice. Again. The doctor’s skin began to crawl. He threw on his dressing gown and joined Sherlock in the kitchen. “Good morning. What’s for breakfast? It smells wonderful.” It was a struggle to sound normal.

The detective graced him with a benevolent smile. “Eggs and toast.” He handed John a cup of tea and gave him a chaste peck on the cheek before sliding into a chair at the table.

Something about that kiss made John’s stomach abruptly sour. The glare that he levelled at his breakfast approached near Sherlockian proportions. It was all that he could do to raise his fork and shovel a forkful of the eggs into his mouth. They tasted like sand. “I can’t take this any longer!”

Sherlock didn’t rise to the bait. He sounded eerily calm. “What’s that, John?”

“Please. Don’t call me that. It’s bad enough that I can’t Dom you right now, but that... It makes me feel like we’re back at the beginning. Like I don’t belong to you and you don’t belong to me.”

“Would you have me call you ‘pet’ then? Is that what you want?”

“God, yes. Please, sir. If there’s any hope at all for us. Please.” John let all the desperation that he felt come out in his voice.

Sherlock, the man who was not known for his compassion, pulled his sub close in a comforting embrace. “I told you that I wouldn’t leave. I always keep my promises to you, pet. That will never change.”

“I know, sir. Sorry, sir. It’s just...”

“Go ahead, pet. You can tell me.”

“You’re being so bloody nice!” John winced at the petulant sound of his own voice. It wasn’t his place to be aggressive. It was his roll to submit and he needed to do just that. He needed it so badly that it hurt. He hung his head. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to shout and swear.”

“It’s okay, pet. Just this once. Now, I wasn’t aware that my being nice was a bad thing. It’s what you always say that you want me to do, so explain yourself.”

“Not like this; you eating, sleeping, cooking for me, it’s just not you. I feel like I’m living with a stranger. I want my Sherlock back.” He hated how his voice trembled and he hated every moment of the last several days. “Please, sir. I would rather be caned like your brother than go on living this way.”

Though he normally was the one to submit in their relationship, Sherlock was quite the skilled Dom. He excelled at anything that he considered to be worth his time and John was well worth it. He latched onto his sub’s hair and pulled his head painfully back. “Be sure, pet, that this is what you really want because, if I decide to let you off with a caning, I won’t go easy on you. You hate it even more than I do.”

“Please, sir. I just want this to end. I want to go back to the way things were.”

“It won’t be just a caning for you, pet. You were quite thorough in the things you asked Mycroft to do to me. I will be just as thorough. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then go to our room and get ready for me.”

This wasn’t what Sherlock had planned, but he loved John so very much and he missed submitting to him. Perhaps this was for the best. He would ease his sub’s guilt, make his point, and then things could go back to normal. In this one situation, he actually preferred normal. It’s the way things were meant to be.

Minutes later found the pair in their bedroom. Almost invariably, it was Sherlock who fidgeted and failed to hold position both in play and punishment, but today, it was John’s turn to fidget and they hadn’t even started yet. For this reason, he was incredibly grateful when Sherlock buckled the ball gag in place. It helped calm him almost instantly.

“Get on your knees, pet.” Sherlock pressed down on his sub’s shoulders and John fell to his knees.

This was what the doctor needed, what he had craved at his most base level. John needed to submit to Sherlock desperately so that he could make amends. The last few days had chafed at him. Sherlock’s perfect behaviour had left him feeling almost hollow and being called John instead of pet or sir had rankled more than he had ever dreamt it would.

Sherlock walked to the stand that held their collection of canes and, with a single glance, selected the one that most closely resembled the one that Mycroft had used on him. It was thick and heavy and would be incredibly painful. He could attest to that fact himself. “If you change your mind, pet, just snap your fingers and I’ll stop, but if you do, then understand that things will continue as they have been. I’ll resume calling you John and you can wait longer until I let you Dom me. Nod if you understand.”

John nodded almost frantically. He just wanted Sherlock to get on with his punishment. He would agree to almost anything at this point.

“I want you with your chest on the bed, hands stretched out in front of you. Spread your legs wide and lift your arse in the air.” When John was in place, Sherlock moved to stand behind him. “You had Mycroft give me six strikes with the cane so the number of strikes that you will receive should be obvious.” The detective let his sub think on that for a minute before stepping back and striking the first blow.

Thwack!

The sound of the cane impacting John’s arse rang through the flat. The doctor struggled hard to maintain his position as a cry of pain escaped around the gag. He hated being caned but it was better than letting things continue as they had been.

Thwack! Thwack!

The pain in John’s arse was incredible. He wouldn’t be sitting comfortably for quite some time. For now, though, he had to get through this. He concentrated on his breathing and not moving.

“Now, pet. This is where you changed things up a bit. So, naturally I’m obliged to do the same.” Sherlock pulled the large vibrating plug from the toy drawer and grabbed the bottle of lube. “Mycroft barely prepped me, as I’m sure you recall. I shall do you the same discourtesy.”

John suppressed a moan and nodded his understanding as well add his acceptance. He had expected no less after all.

Sherlock was true to his word. He only fingered his sub enough to ensure that no damage would be done before seating the plug firmly in place and flipping it on. When John bucked, the Dom pushed down on the small of his neck to keep him from moving. “Should I leave you here, pet? Go play my violin perhaps? Set up my next experiment?” His sub shook his head frantically and Sherlock smiled.

The detective could remember every moment of his nearly two hour long punishment and timed the remaining 3 blows accordingly. By the time the last blow was dealt, his sub was sobbing behind his gag and clenching his fists spasmodically in the duvet.

Sherlock switched the plug off, removed it, and then unbuckled the ball gag and removed it as well.

John didn’t move from where he lay; he was too broken and exhausted.

Against his will, Sherlock felt a surge of pity for the other man. He knew all too well how John was feeling. “Okay, pet. It’s over now.” He helped his sub climb onto the bed. “Let me take care of you now.”

Shaking his head, John choked out the words, “Don’t. I don’t... I didn’t. Fuck. I didn’t take care of you.”

“That doesn’t matter, pet. You need aftercare. I’m not letting you ‘drop.” Sherlock was already opening the arnica cream. He smoothed it over the welts on John’s swollen arse. “It’s over now. Not just the caning, but all of it, pet.” Once he finished his ministrations, he lay down next to the doctor and wrapped his arm around him. Just maybe, things would be alright.

Sherlock and John relaxed into each other’s arms. A thought occurred to the sub. “Sir? When you were caning me, I wanted to safe word, but I didn’t. I knew that I deserved every strike.”

The Dom hummed his encouragement.

“Before. When... When I punished you and I was wrong, why didn’t you safe word? You were well within your rights to do it.”

“Pet, you were so angry and neither Lestrade nor my brother believed me. They wouldn’t listen to anything that I had to say. I didn’t think you would be any different.”

John was feeling ill again. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Oh God, sir! I’m sorry that you felt that way. Never be afraid to safe word. I promise that I’ll always listen to you. I never want you to feel like that again. If you ever do, I want you to stop everything and tell me. When you give yourself to me like that, it’s my job to take care of you. That’s all I want – to take care of you.”

“I know that, pet. Sir.”

John looked at the other man hopefully. “Does that mean what I hope it does?”

Sherlock tucked his head against John’s shoulder. “Yes, sir. It does.”

John felt a weight lift from his chest and he had to fight the tears that threatened. “Thank you, pet. I’ll do my best to be worthy of your trust.”

***

The 10 days since John had been allowed to Dom the younger man had been incredibly strange. Nothing had gone wrong – for a change. Everything had run smoothly. John had simply been glad to be allowed to Dom Sherlock again. It just wasn’t how he had hoped.

Sherlock had a case on day 3 that took him less than 6 hours to solve, but kept his brain active for a few days. John had only needed to glare at him once at the crime scene when he’d made a snide comment to Donovan, which in John’s opinion she had deserved, but he had a feeling Sherlock knew of his slip up and was expecting some form of reprimand. That afternoon had been the weirdest so far, Sherlock, for some reason must have felt guilty for the glare he had aimed at Donovan and he’d been as perfect as ever. Even going as far as to address John as ‘sir’ at the crime scene, something he had never done and it caught the doctor off guard. And for the second time in a week Sherlock offered to give the DI a hand with the paperwork, something Sherlock usually claimed was dull and completely pointless, it wasn’t the paper work that solved the case, it was Sherlock’s Mind Palace.

He had continued to eat every day, he followed John to bed without complaint, like a lost puppy.

On day 5 they had played together for the first time. They’d started slow, John hadn’t wanted to rush into anything and secretly Sherlock was glad, he knew the Dom wouldn’t hurt him, but then he had known that 2 weeks ago and ended up strapped to a table being caned by his brother for doing his job.

Sherlock had knelt in the centre of the sitting room, his hands tied in front of his with his scarf, again, Sherlock assumed it was John being cautious, they both knew from experience Sherlock could wriggle free from it. John had paced around him with the beloved riding crop, he never hit the younger man just rubbed it all over him. It wasn’t just the flat part of the crop he used but his hands and his lips, he even tickled Sherlock’s feet with his toes that had the detective squealing like a girl for which he apologised profusely afterwards, that had John slightly confused. He never apologised for making noise before. They’d continued that for about an hour, when John had ordered him to lay on his back, he continued once more, still not striking him with the crop.

That session had ended with Sherlock feeling mightily pleased, but John just feeling wrong footed. The detective had thanked him, which again he never did, and disappeared into the shower, he had waited afterwards to dry John off and helped him get dressed then made him a cup of tea and followed him into bed without so much as a grunt at how boring it would be.

On day 7 they went shopping for new toys and tried every sex/BDSM shop within a 15 mile radius; they’d bought plenty of new things to try out. Sherlock had suggested sending the bill to Mycroft to celebrate their return to their normal dynamic. He had been surprised when John agreed and even more surprised when Mycroft sent over a check within an hour of their final purchase. It wasn’t cheap either as they’d practically bought the entirety of all the shops they’d gone into.

In short, they tried to put the entire jewellery store episode behind them. Just some things had worked better than others.

Everything was going great up until Sherlock slipped up. It had been a complete accident and John knew it, but it was one of the biggest crimes on the list, just below ignoring his own self-preservation (including eating and sleeping) and attitude towards himself and others (specifically at crime scenes).

As a result, John had Sherlock tied face down on the bed a new anal hook in his hole, it had taken him ¾’s of an hour to properly prepare Sherlock, and they’d both taken pleasure in being able to play once more. Sherlock had moaned and rutted into the sheets like a teenager, as John had told him more than once, which Sherlock responded with “Yes, sir, but it’s your fault, sir,” to which John had just chuckled and pulled out until he apologised and was practically begging for more.

His knees were spread by a spreader bar. It wasn’t uncomfortable but it would be over time. His arms were each tied to a corner of the bed respectively as he moaned and whimpered under his Dom.

The hook in Sherlock’s arse that John had taken so long to prepare was tied to the hook in the ceiling and he had started to run a soothing hand up and down the detective’s back marvelling at how Sherlock’s body seemed to shine and wriggle with the touch.

It had happened almost instantaneously. John moved his ministrations around under Sherlock and softly grasped his hard, leaking cock and at once the sub came.

Too far under to realise what had happened, Sherlock shuddered through his orgasm and then collapsed. It had been far too long since Sherlock had been in a situation like this - one where he had lost control. John just stood there confused for a moment and then took a step back.

***

3 days later saw Sherlock painfully hard. They hadn’t had any more cases and John had been watching him move around the flat much slower than usual. The doctor could tell he’d exercised absolute restraint to not touch himself. He made his way into the kitchen where Sherlock was routing through the cupboard for the vinegar for his latest experiment.

John grasped his collar and pulled him back.

“Sir!” Sherlock protested, more out of surprise than anger.

“Yes, Sherlock is there a problem?”

“No, sir,” he said quickly.

John raised an eyebrow at Sherlock’s quick polite come back. He had been polite before his coming without permission accident, abnormally so but these last few days had once again surprised the doctor where the sub had remained subdued and submissive, John would have expected him to be pushy and begging for relief.

John hadn’t given him a specific time that he would be on this punishment, even though it was more teasing than actually being punished. John was just proving a point but Sherlock had been surprisingly different in his whole attitude.

“Good. Go through to the bedroom.”

Sherlock knew what that meant and knew John was actually letting up on withholding his orgasm but somehow he just didn’t seem bothered or couldn’t be bothered.

“Can I finish my-” he broke off abruptly, realising he was about to argue with his Dom. “Yes, sir.”

He turned and walked into the bedroom; his legs a bit more spread than normal.

He had no idea how long John was planning to leave him without an orgasm but he had learned early on, before university, that if he went a few days withholding his orgasm he could remain on top of it indefinitely. He had prided himself on it and it had indeed come in handy.

John followed in after a few minutes. “Right then, pet, hop up onto the bed, hands and knees. Actually, strip first.”

Sherlock nodded and stripped out of his shirt and shoes, and slid his trousers down. John watched confused as Sherlock shed each item and folded it before placing it on the chair at the end of the bed. Then he climbed onto the bed and settled onto his hands and knees.

“So Sherlock, 3 days, and I’m guessing you’ve been hard for all that time?”

“Yes, sir,” Sherlock responded. He vaguely wondered if he could somehow get John to do this quickly so he could get back to his experiment.

“You’ll probably be glad to hear that I’m in the mood to give you my undivided attention for the next 3 hours.” It was the first time ‘undivided attention’ came across as a negative, but he didn’t tell John that.

Sherlock tried to nod and be enthusiastic but his enthusiasm wilted away at the thought of having to start that experiment all over again. He wondered what was wrong as, when he was with John, he never even thought of his experiments let alone be willing to give up his attention for one. He came to the conclusion that it was how John had punished him a few weeks ago. Although at the time having an orgasm was brilliant and nothing was a better feeling especially with John there. The idea of what previous Doms had done to him if he came without permission made him find it easy to withhold it from himself to save him the pain of punishment. He was brought roughly from his thoughts when John grabbed his length that was hanging between his legs and it made him realise just how vulnerable he was right now. All he had to do was throw his wall back up and make John feel stupid by being perfectly obedient. It may be a bit more difficult now, but he’d managed to be practically perfect for 2 weeks, another few hours couldn’t be too much trouble. However he couldn’t help the slight hiss that went between his teeth at the harsh tug.

“Do you feel like you could come right now Sherlock? Right at this minute.”

He shrugged half-heartedly. “Probably. Sir.”

John moved his hand round behind Sherlock and found his hole, he edged his finger in. “Well don’t,” John said quickly to hide his surprise.

“No, sir. Of course not, sir.”

John frowned. “You have been exceptionally good these last few days, what do you fancy as a reward?” it was almost a temptation to get him to slip up… just to test a theory.

Sherlock shrugged. “Whatever you wish, sir,” he said dejectedly. He was rather pissed off with why he wasn’t enjoying this, he’d let John him Dom again because he had felt he was ready, he still felt he was ready, he just… didn’t know.

“Do you want to come with me inside you or you inside me or what?”

“I don’t mind, sir.” He had to stop himself saying he didn’t care.

“Ok. Fine, if you’re going to be difficult.”

Difficult? He was trying to make it easier.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

John shook his head and stepped away from the bed. Sherlock didn’t move, he stayed exactly where the Dom had left him.

“I could finger you… or use one of the new toys we added to our collection a few days ago? What do you think?” John tried again.

“Whatever you wish, sir.”

John growled and stepped away when he had landed his open palm on the younger man’s arse. Giving him a thrashing right now would not be the way forward.

“Kneel up,” John ordered.

Sherlock obeyed immediately and his hands went to his neck without John ordering him.

“Stay there!”

“Yes, sir,” Sherlock whispered when the bedroom door slammed shut.

John slouched against the wall out in the hallway. What was going on with him? Why wasn’t he demanding the orgasm that he deserved? Why was he being a puppet? He opened the door to check on him, to find Sherlock hadn’t moved a muscle, his back as perfectly straight as what a ruler would be. He didn’t even look over when the door opened.

He sighed and closed the door again. A cup of tea was what he needed, then after that, Sherlock would have got bored and would cooperate.

John was wrong.

***

It was a total of 17 minutes before the door to the bedroom opened again, and for the second time Sherlock didn’t move at the sound of his Dom’s approach.

“Everything alright, pet?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Any problems?”

“No, sir.”

“Are you willing to cooperate now?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you’ll do as I tell you?”

“Yes, sir.” Sherlock had already done everything he was told, it wouldn’t be difficult to continue.

“Drop your hands back to the bed and lean forward.”

Immediately the detective rocked forward, his palms flat on the sheet.

John took hold of his length in his hand and began running his palm up and down, Sherlock didn’t move. Sherlock didn’t whimper.

“Did you touch this while I was gone?”

“No, sir.”

“Why not?”

“You forbid me from it, sir.”

“When was this?”

“3 days ago, sir.”

Why was he acting like he had no idea what was going on.

“I’m going to use that new plug on you, pet, how does that sound?”

“Good, sir.” It was the only answer he could offer.

“Shoulders to the bed.”

The younger man’s back arched as he obeyed and presented his hole. John blew around the edge, expecting the moan that, that action usually received, none came.

This was getting ridiculous. He grabbed the lube and began working in one finger. Then a second, when he twisted his fingers and brushed the subs prostate he bucked. He returned to his position again and straightened his arms about as he continued to relentlessly rub at it.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m sorry.”

“What for?” John was confused.

“I moved, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

John shook his head and twisted his fingers again, somehow this time the detective didn’t buck at the soft ministrations of his prostate.

The doctor didn’t bother with a third finger, he found the plug and pressed the tip to his loose hole.

“You can take it, pet, it’s big but I know you can.”

“Yes, sir.”

John was getting pissed off with the one word answers and the perfect politeness each time. He liked to be able to break the younger man and then smack his pale backside when he messed up, that wasn’t happening and he missed it. This was like having a robot to fuck with.

Once the plug was seated, the widest part made the detective’s eyes water but he didn’t complain that he couldn’t take it.

John would find out what was going on but first he needed to slip him up, make thugs normal again.

“Get dressed. Go and get some milk from the shop, put it in the fridge and then return here.”

If Sherlock was surprised by the unusual request he didn’t show it.

“Yes, sir,” he responded as he found his suit and redressed. With that he wandered from the room and out of the flat.

***

“Do you want to come, Sherlock?” John asked as he re-entered the room.

Sherlock disrobed without being told and knelt on the floor in the middle of the room.

“If you wish me to, sir,” Sherlock responded.

John frowned. “Do you want to?”

“I want what you want, sir.”

“What’s really going on here?”

“We were in the middle of s-”

“No! With you. Something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong, sir.”

“You mean you would willingly get dressed and leave the bedroom?”

“I’ve already done it once, sir, if you wanted me to do it permanently I would.”

“Where’s this coming from, Sherlock? I thought we sorted this and you were ready for me to act as your Dom? If you weren’t ready why did you suggest it?”

“We have sorted it, sir. I just did a bit of research that I probably should have done a long time ago.”

“Research on what?”

“Relationships, contracts…”

“I thought we were fine.”

“We were- are, I just thought it might help. Sir.”

“Sherlock I love you the way you are that’s why I’m with you. If I wanted a sub who obeyed me without a second thought for their own needs or safety I could go to anyone and would not have fallen in love with you. It would be different anyway with both of us being switches.”

“But you have to punish me all the time Sir and you said you hate doing it more than any other sub-”

“No, Sherlock! I do hate punishing you, but you learn. You understand and I enjoy you being difficult sometimes. It presents a challenge for both of us, having subs behave to your every whim is okay for some Doms - most Doms - but as you say, they’re dull and boring. I also develop the need for subspace and you’re the only one I would trust with that. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, do you want to come?”

Sherlock was going to go back to his ‘default’ response but instead said, “yes, sir.”

John took his statement at face value and brought his sub to release. He didn’t get off himself, however, because something just didn’t feel right. He didn’t feel like he deserved it.


	5. Addendum

Later on that afternoon John came out to see Sherlock doing the same things to his equipment he had done 6 days ago. He remembered this because he had to move one of the chairs to find something at the top of the cabinet.

“Sherlock, why are you starting that experiment again?”

Sherlock looked up in shock, like a deer in the headlights. “I um… I just felt that I needed to get more accurate results, sir.” It was a lie and they both knew it.

The doctor would have believed him if it wasn’t for the stumble and the look on his face. “What have I told you about lying, pet?”

Sherlock looked very awkward before sighing and dropping his head in reluctant yet quick defeat.

“The last part of the process has to be completed within 15 minutes of me removing the lid or the gases escape, sir.”

“And why couldn’t you do this?” John asked dreading the answer; Sherlock had spent months planning this.

“You came and told me to go into the bedroom, sir.”

“You could have just said you needed to finish.”

“I did last time, sir. You just snapped at me and doubled the punishment time.”

“I was angry then, you were in trouble.”

“You were angry today, sir. I was still on punishment.”

John sighed and as much as he wanted to prove to Sherlock his innocence in this little dilemma it was a losing battle. He had clearly thought through every way (of course he had) he could have got out of going to the bedroom. His reasons were all logically based on ‘data’, as he called it, that he had collected previously.

“Sherlock, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were on an important part of that experiment I know it’s taken you so long to prepare it.”

“It’s fine, sir.”

“No, it’s not. Why did you leave the kitchen and not safe-word?”

This was a difficult subject. Sherlock hadn’t used his safe word during his wrongful punishment for the jewellery store episode either. He felt that it was ridiculous that John was pushing him for his failure to safe word over this. Something so small and insignificant in comparison.

“You wanted me to go to the bedroom, so I went to the bedroom. I had no valid excuse to safe word. You weren’t hurting me and I wasn’t uncomfortable. Sir.”

John shrugged; again he couldn’t fault Sherlock’s logic. Could he ever?

“Well, I see you’re busy. I’ll be in the other room.” John was rather annoyed and his tone didn’t go unnoticed when the detective nodded hastily and stumbled over a quiet “yes, sir” before turning back to his experiment. Glad to be left alone.

***

An hour and half later John moved to the kitchen to find Sherlock. The detective had taken this well, too well. It made John think and worry that what he had said about him being difficult hadn’t occurred and yet, at a time like that, he would expect it more than ever. He’d expected him to appear after 10 minutes or so because last week when he’d started this experiment, he had complained how easy it was to set running and that he had to leave it for 24 hours before he could adjust anything. Except there was no sign of his sub in the kitchen or in their bedroom. He opened the door of the flat and saw Mrs Hudson sweeping the hallway through.

“Mrs H, have you seen Sherlock?”

“No, dear, is everything alright?”

“He hasn’t come through, has he, or gone out?”

“Not that I’ve seen, and I’ve been busy around here for about an hour, so I would have seen him.”

“Ok thanks Mrs Hudson.”

“What sort of trouble has he got himself into now?”

“No trouble,” John assured her, but added a silent ‘I hope’.

He closed the door and turned to look up the stairs. Why would he be up there? He climbed the stairs and knocked on the door. “Sherlock?” He called.

There was shuffling from inside and a wary, “sir?”

John opened the door to his old bedroom and saw Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed, the book he’d obviously been reading on the dressing table.

John could tell by how crinkled his shirt and trousers were that he had been lying on the bed, so why had he sat up in a hurry? What was he so panicked about?

“Is something the matter, sir?” Sherlock asked quietly.

“Huh? Oh, no. I just couldn’t find you or a note that’s all.”

“I didn’t leave the flat, sir. I didn’t think you’d want me to leave one for going upstairs.”

“No. No I wouldn’t. I was just worried. I couldn’t find you. Why are you up here? Why didn’t you come and find me in the sitting room?”

Again; that impression of a deer being caught in the headlights sprung to mind.

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t realise you’d want me to come and find you,” Sherlock said smoothly avoiding the question.

“Why wouldn’t I want you to? Have I ever demanded that you stay away unreasonably? And without a valid excuse?”

“No, sir,” Sherlock said quickly scrambling to his feet.

“Sherlock… what’s wrong?”

“Noth-” He thought of protesting, but stopped himself. “-I’ve upset you. So I kept out of the way.”

“When did you upset me, Sherlock?”

“When you told me I should have argued with you about my experiment rather than done as you told me.”

“What did I do that made you think I was angry with you?”

“You left after I told you my reasoning for not safe wording.”

“Oh, Sherlock, no wonder you’re hiding. Maybe you’re not over everything as much as we thought. I promise, I won’t get angry with you for using your safe word and I’ll always give you the chance to do it. I’ll listen.”

He nodded sheepishly. “I’m sorry, sir. Sometimes, I still think about what happened.” Sherlock sounded bitter.

“I know, pet. I do too. It’s just going to take time.”

***

Mycroft had been remarkably quiet for the last few days he hadn’t been in a foul mood, he’d responded when spoken to he just didn’t seem up for anything other than sat at his desk in their study.

Greg knocked on the door and leant against the frame holding a mug of coffee.

Mycroft glanced up, his eyes were dull and it was obvious that he didn’t sleep much last night, Greg already knew that but he hadn’t pushed.

“Thought you could do with a cup, pet.”

“Thanks, sir.”

“You busy?”

“Just these forms need filling out for Anthea or I’ll have to go into the office tomorrow.”

“Is it likely to take you long?”

“No, sir.”

“Well come and find me when you’re done.”

“Yes, sir.”

Greg smiled and cupped his cheek. He kissed him quickly and retreated back to the kitchen.

***

Mycroft was right, it didn’t take him that long before he appeared at the lounge door, Greg was sat reading.

Without looking up, the Dom pointed to the floor beside the chair and Mycroft immediately knew what he was after.

He wanted him to submit, to relax.

Realising he’d been in enough trouble the last few days the sub nodded and wandered over to kneel at his Dom’s feet. Greg’s hand immediately found its way into his hair.

“What’s had you so tense this morning?”

“Sherlock caned John.”

“How’d you know?”

“I think I provoked it last week.”

“You can’t make Sherlock do anything when you’re not even there.”

“No, but I made Sherlock point out what he was doing, I put into words what John was thinking. By the following morning John would have had enough.”

“So what’s the big deal? You’ve got what you wanted, John punished too.”

“I know, but something isn’t right. John hasn’t been in touch since.”

“So he hasn’t been allowed to Dom Sherlock yet…”

“No I’m pretty sure they have gone back to how they were. If they’re shopping list was anything to go by a few days ago.”

“You paid it?”

“I said I would. I knew then what had happened and I felt responsible.”

“So if everything is back to normal, I don’t understand Pet.”

“I know my brother better than he knows himself, after what happened he would no doubt look into ways of improving their relationship.”

“Why?”

“Because he probably believes he was at fault.”

“So me dragging him to you and you caning him on John’s orders is his fault?”

“No! We know it’s not, as does John, but Sherlock won’t, he’ll look into it and believe that he did something wrong for us to suspect he would get into trouble that way.”

Greg sighed, his sub was right, Mycroft over-complicated things that didn’t need over-complicating, as did Sherlock.

“What do you suggest then, pet?”

“I suggest we go back to Baker Street and help them fix it.”

“Sherlock will just accuse you of sticking your nose in.”

“No he won’t, he’s scared and confused and when he was younger I’m the only one he ever came to when those emotions mingled. He’ll want me there and it’s likely to be a bit different than what either you or John have seen between us before.”

***

Later that day found John thinking again. He had been doing a lot of that lately. He couldn’t get it out of his head. Sherlock had been researching contracts and relationships and, well fuck! What if he wanted out? Was that it, he wanted their contract severed? John ran to the loo and vomited.

“Sir, are you alright?”

Sherlock sounded concerned. That was good, right? “I’m fine. Really.” His voice trembled.

“No, you’re not. I can tell from your voice and your left hand is shaking.”

John looked down. Sherlock was right. He made a fist and shoved his hand into his pocket to hide the tremors. “I must have caught the flu. It’s reaching near epidemic proportions. I don’t know how many patients I’ve seen with it at the clinic.”

The situation was a bit not good. Sherlock could see it as plain as day. John didn’t have the flu. This was something else entirely. He felt the shift from sub to Dom slipping over him. He would get to the bottom of this.

Sherlock dampened a flannel and sat on the floor next to John. He grasped the back of the doctor’s neck and held him firmly in place while he wiped his face. “I’m taking control, pet, because you’re clearly not okay and you don’t have the flu. You’re trying to hide something from me and that’s unacceptable.”

John couldn’t fight it, whenever he tried to hide things from Sherlock the urge to submit always grew incredibly strong. “Yes, sir.”

Holding out his hand, Sherlock waited for John to take it. When he did, they rose to their feet and made their way to the living room. Sherlock pressed the other man into his seat then sat across from him in his own chair. He could see that John had lost some of the panic that had possessed him. “Now, we are going to talk. Do we need to use names for this conversation?”

That was clearly the wrong question to ask because John began hyperventilating. Sherlock moved quickly to his side, grasped the currently submissive switch by the back of his neck and bent him forward until John’s forehead rested on his knees.

“Breathe, pet. In... out... in... out.”

Sherlock continued talking, helping the doctor to calm down. The entire time, his mind was racing to solve the mystery before him. John had already been panicking when the detective had found him vomiting in the loo. Suggesting using names rather than terms of affection had panicked the man further. Oh! This was his fault, wasn’t it? Mentioning the contract earlier had been a mistake. Now John was afraid he was going to leave him. He had to fix this.

“Pet,” Sherlock used the appellation quite deliberately, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve already told you that. I’ll never leave you.” He was rubbing soothing circles on his submissive’s back. “I should never have mentioned our contract. I should have realised how it would affect you. It’s just that you deserve better than me. I’m a ridiculous man, and I haven’t been living up to what you deserve. I do think that we should update our contract to help me be more what you need, but it’s not my intention to dissolve it. Do you understand?”

John still couldn’t manage to speak so he nodded his head instead. The tightness in his chest was easing up just a bit and it was getting easier to breathe. Sherlock let him sit up.

“Okay, then. If you’re up to it, we should talk about this now because I don’t want this hanging over us indefinitely, but to do that we’ll have to be on an equal footing. So, names for now.”

“Alright, Sherlock. I can do this if I know that you’re going to stay. The thought of you leaving was just too much.” John was fairly certain that he was telling the truth and they could talk. “But as I’ve told you, when you act as my sub, you give me everything that I need. You’re challenging, exciting, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted from you.”

The detective was shaking his head. He knew that he wasn’t either of those things. He was insubordinate, insulant, practically unteachable. That’s why John and the others hadn’t believed him when he said that he hadn’t robbed the jewellery store. He may have been incredibly angry with the lot of them before, but time had given him clarity. It had been all his fault.

The knock at the door surprised Sherlock for once. He had been lost to his own thoughts and hadn’t heard the footfalls on the stairs. Still, he knew who it had to be. “Bloody Mycroft!”

The door opened and his brother and Greg stepped inside. The Dom gave Mycroft a small nod indicating that he should go ahead with what he had to say.

The British Government was present in full force, only tempered by his concern for Sherlock. Mycroft got straight to the point. “So, Sherlock, I see you’ve convinced yourself that everything is your fault and you’ve almost given John a nervous breakdown over it. What did you do, suggest revisiting your contract?”

It was John that spoke. “How did you know? Oh, never mind, that’s a stupid question.” He swept his hand over his face. This was too much. Now he had to deal with another Holmes. “What business is it of yours?”

Sherlock hadn’t rolled his eyes or even given a snort of derision. His brother was too right and he felt incredibly guilty for what he had done to John. Suddenly, his heart felt like it was being squeezed and tears threatened in his eyes. For once, he was glad of his brother’s presence. Mycroft understood.

Mycroft looked at both men pityingly. “I – we – want to help. I knew that Sherlock would do this, it was inevitable, given enough time. He always doubts himself when it came to relationships.”

John knew the truth of that. It was maddening, at times, dealing with Sherlock’s insecurity. That the doctor was feeling insecure himself only added to his frustration. “Just have a seat and I’ll get tea for all of us.” He needed the calming ritual of preparing tea and they let him have it.

Greg sat on the sofa and Mycroft sat next to him. They had decided that, for this conversation, Mycroft needed to speak from an equal footing. They waited in silence until John returned with the tea.

The words that Sherlock spoke into the silence stunned both Greg and John. “Myc, it was my fault. All of it. I’m not good enough for John. I function adequately as a Dom but I’m worthless as a sub.” Mycroft had expected no less. “And seeing as I tend to be the more submissive… I-” he cut off and ducked his head.

John started to speak but Mycroft held up his hand to forestall him. “Baby brother, that’s simply not true as your doctor has already told you on more than one occasion. I suggest that you listen to him.”

Sherlock looked down at his hands, embarrassed. “I don’t know... I still think we should look at the contract again.”

Mycroft stunned the three men when he said, “I think you’re right.”

“No!” John sprang to his feet. “Sherlock’s perfect as he is. We don’t need to change the contract to try to change him. I won’t have it! “

“Please calm yourself, Doctor Watson. That’s not what I’m suggesting.” Mycroft waited until John had calmed himself and regained his seat before continuing. “Rather than trying to change Sherlock, you should consider carefully what you treasure most in him. Then, I will develop a clause that seeks to preserve that characteristic.”

That idea appealed to John because he certainty didn’t want to change his partner, not in any meaningful way. Sometimes he wanted to knock off Sherlock’s rough edges, but there were already numerous clauses in their contact that addressed that. “That’s easy, Mycroft. I love Sherlock’s spontaneity. I love how he challenges me. He’s a never-ending source of surprises. I don’t want that to change due to some misguided effort to please me.”

Mycroft smiled. John’s answer was just as he had expected. He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a form. It was already filled out with an addendum to their contract. It only awaited signatures. Rising, he offered it to the doctor. On it was written a clause that accurately reflected what the doctor had said.

John looked at it hard, swallowed once, and smiled. “Yeah, that’s it. Of course, I should have known that you already knew.” Laughing, he handed the addendum to Sherlock who read it quickly.

The detective wrinkled his nose. “So basically, I’m to continue being an arse on a regular basis?”

“That’s about it, yes,” John said. “I’ve told you that, you prat. More than once. I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

Something about seeing it in writing almost made Sherlock believe it, but there was still a small doubt niggling at his mind. “But what about what happened before? You can’t trust me to behave. That’s why none of you believed me.”

“That’s because we were bloody idiots, Sherlock!” John had to make him understand. “We, I should have listened to you. It’s not your fault. The only thing that I would ask is that you use your safe word if it’s needed. Beyond that, I don’t want you to change. I would die of boredom.”

Sherlock took a deep breath. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. I wouldn’t want it in the contract if I didn’t.”

Warmth spread through Sherlock at those words. All of the doubt and self-loathing he had been feeling were suddenly washed away. “Then, yes. I want this too.”

Greg let out a breath that he hadn’t known he had been holding. He wanted John and Sherlock to work this out. He felt like the whole mess was his fault, after all. He was the one that had brought Sherlock home from the jewellery store for punishment. “Mycroft, Pet, let’s get these two to sign the thing before one of them changes their mind.”

Sherlock took the Biro that Mycroft offered and signed. He passed the addendum to John who affixed his signature to it. Mycroft and Greg signed as well, as witnesses.

“Thank you, Myc,” Sherlock said quietly then he bounded from his chair and grabbed his brother in a fierce hug.

Mycroft hugged him back. “Any time, baby brother.”

Sherlock broke away, embarrassed. He hadn’t meant to do that. John would probably tease him about it later. He glared at Lestrade. The man had better never ever mention it. Sherlock made a concerted effort to harden his voice. “Now if you two will get out, John and I need to make up for lost time.”

John blushed.

Mycroft gave a smirk and lifted the addendum. “I’ll see that this gets filed properly.” He turned to his Dom. “I believe that is time for us to go, sir.”

When the two men had left, Sherlock went to kneel between John’s knees. He looked up into his doctor’s eyes. “You really want me just as I am, sir?” It was a question, even if it was hidden well.

“Always and forever, pet.”

Sherlock placed his head in John’s lap. “Show me?”

“God, yes. Come with me.” John’s heart felt lighter than it had since this whole thing began. Sherlock wanted him. That was a fact to treasure. He wanted Sherlock. That was just a fact. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to podfic or translate this or create a drawing based on it, go for it. Just please let me know and link back to my fic.


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